Pillow Talk
by gracelove
Summary: Takes place in the episode "He's Having a Baby"....um, kinda. You'll have to see! Please tell me if you think its a little far-fetched.
1. What child is THAT?

Reba's life seemed to be flashing by her, but she didn't want to know what it was coming to. The minute she had found out that her marriage was over, she had lived_ outwardly_ by the phrase: "My lawyer will do the talking". Anyway, she had enough to do without paying any attention to Brock _outwardly_, what with Cheyenne being pregnant and a new son-in-law. Secretly, she was very excited that she would have a grandchild in just a few short months.

But inwardly, she couldn't avoid talking to Brock entirely. Not long ago, he had started calling her, usually late at night. She was so determined to act like she wasn't sore that she picked up the phone each and every time, and before she knew it, had talked to him for an hour or more each night. Reba knew she couldn't help it, though; during the separation, what she missed the most was…their friendship; the friendship that she had fallen in love with. She thought he felt it as strongly, too, but, well, what else hadn't he proved wrong, anyway?

Even more secretly, she couldn't see herself ever getting over him. Where to start? Lori-Ann had assured her "Oh, this divorce will be such a drag and just so annoying you'll be glad it's over." But that hadn't really soothed her burns she insisted weren't there.

The first night, she had picked up the phone in a mood. Recognizing the number she'd muttered, "What?"

Brock's voice was quiet. "Did I wake you up? I'm sorry."

"No, Brock. I'm plenty awake. What do you want?"

"Um…" he paused. "Is this a bad time?" She sighed; he noticed. "Okay, look, I know it's stupid for me to be calling you like this, okay? But…" now he sighed, and she just knew he was running his fingers through his bronze, wavy hair. She could almost smell his aftershave on his face being blown off by his breath. It distracted her from saying something smart while he paused. "Um, Reba, how mad are you at me?"

Ha! That was a good one – like she'd discuss her feelings with Brock _now_. She hated to talk about them; it was hard enough to be on anti-depressants right now. She just felt so…weak. But anger would be one sure way to cover up…nah, he'd know she was hurt and that just might give him satisfaction. So she settled for, "That doesn't matter, Brock. Not anymore. Maybe if you'd cared a few months ago…but not anymore. Now I'm just the ex-wife-to-be. How am I supposed to feel, happy?"

"I hope…you can be. Someday, because Reba…you can't know how terrible I feel," he said, his voice breaking. "And I want you to know something…as crazy as it sounds…I…miss you." She knew he could've used a thousand words besides 'miss' but that right now, when their divorce would be final so soon, everything they said had to be thought out carefully, should it be taken wrong.

Now her voice broke; she hated this…this _hell _they called divorce. "I miss you, too." She meant it. And she meant all those other words that could be substituted: Love, smile over, want, cry over, need, etc.

"You know…I actually called tonight because this was my favorite part of the day: Talking to you at night, alone. This is what I miss the most." Now his tone was lighter, full of nostalgia.

"Looks like we still have a lot in common," she said, giving a small chuckle. It was hard not to want to lighten the mood with him.

"Nothing will be the same again, will it?" Brock whispered, more to himself. This kept hitting him, over and over, never losing any pain in its impact. He kept slipping out of reality, then being dragged back…over a bed of razors.

"No," Reba agreed. "I…really can't believe its…over." _Or that it can be so over for you…when it never will be for me._

Suddenly they each heard a faint cry coming from Brocks end. She knew it must be BJ whining about something or other and suddenly her brick wall was being built up again. "Goodnight, Brock."

"Wait!" She sighed as he stalled her. "Call you tomorrow night?"

"Brock…"

"Please, Reba." She could hear the desperation in his voice that matched her own – the need to talk to someone who you saw as your soulmate. Ugh, mush. Why did it all have to be true?

"Okay, fine. Now goodnight!" she hung up.

From that night on, they had just called each other up and talked. Talked about the kids, about whose lawyer was more annoying, but always Reba would change the tone if it got to reminiscent. She couldn't handle being so fragile; she was still mad at herself for letting all that slip the first night.

She still hadn't seen Brock, and had told him to stay away from her, in not much friendlier terms than that. She didn't feel herself, she didn't even know if she looked herself. But she was sure Lori-Ann would tell her if she even had a hair out of place, so it didn't bother her too much. But she had no idea what emotions would come seeping through – no, flooding over the walls she'd built, if she saw Brock.

About a month after those phone calls, when the divorce was final and all seemed normal, Van had to ask her that stupid question:

"Will you be my Mommy?" Cheyenne had just bailed out on him; she had a 'Take-home-test-paper' she had to do, and consequently was missing childbirth class.

Reba stared stonily at her son-in-law. "Van. No."

"Please…?" he begged, staring into her eyes with his brown ones, almost screaming 'puppy-dog'. She caved; he made it tough to say no.

"Okay…but I don't even look like a pregnant woman…do I?" Vans eyes lit up.

"Oh, I can take care of that!" he ran upstairs and within seconds was down with a pregnancy pad, complete with one of Cheyenne's maternity dresses. Reba stared at it dully. "Van, no! Where'd you even get that?" she repeated her earlier statement.

"School gave it to me to see what its like being pregnant. Believe me, its hard. Now back to the point - You have to wear this! Otherwise I'll just look like a paranoid guy who thinks he knocked up some lady," he begged, giving her the puppy dog eyes again. Reba sighed, grabbed the get-up and headed for the bathroom. When she finally came out, she looked like one, unhappy, pregnant red-head.

"Smile, Mrs. H! C'mon, I don't wanna be late" Van said, squeezing her shoulder and helping her outside. She slapped him away, reminding him that she had been pregnant three times and a bunch of cushioning under a dress wasn't going to send her 'hee-hee-hee-hoo-ing'.

Once in the class, the instructor did a double take when she saw Reba. "Didn't you have a different Mommy last time?" she asked, curious. Before anyone could explain, Reba was bumped from behind and a familiar voice said, "Excuse me – Reba?"

She turned, exclaiming, "What are you doing here?"

Brock looked like he was wondering the same thing, but his eyes were glued to Reba's belly. His eyes bulged, and he pointed, chocking, "Reba...preg…mine?" he squeaked. Before Reba could do more than blush, however, Van came back over.

"Go find your own Mommy!" And he steered Reba away from Brock, now under an even worse impression.

"Oh this is great," Reba muttered, sitting on the mat.

"Yes, it is. Now BJ isn't here, he wants you to be his Mommy!" Van agreed. "Where is BJ, anyway?"

"How should I know? Just go get the plastic baby, Van."

Meanwhile, Brock was talking to the instructor. Reba tried not to listen, but she couldn't drown out his very anxious voice. "Hey, is a Barbra Jean Booker here?"

Reba's head jerked up. Why Booker? Hadn't they registered her as 'Hart'? Thats the way they did everything now - the bills, the checks, etc. even though they weren't married yet. For some reason, and to Rebas displeasure, it kept getting postponed.

"No, she isn't – she called and said she wouldn't be coming today." The instructor's voice was full of surprise. Reba couldn't resist; she looked up to see Brock. He looked extremely worried as he said, "Thank you…" and left, casting Reba one last suspicious glance.

For the first time, Reba dreaded the phone call that would come that night. The first time seeing each other in months, and she got to look pregnant with his child. Craap.


	2. Bye Bye Blondie

"Hey Van, he- mom?" Cheyenne's eyes bulged as her mother entered the kitchen again. Reba hung up her purse and turned to glare at her, as if to say, "Don't say a word." She didn't, so Reba started to climb the stairs. She'd forgotten how hard it was to climb stairs pregnant, however, and stumbled a little. It would have been funny if she hadn't been in such a bad mood.

As soon as the pregnancy pad was off she stepped into a warm, bubbly bath. Her head was resting against the back of the tub and her eyes were closing as the water soaked through and relaxed her stiff body from such a tough day. In fact, she was so soothed she may have fallen asleep, except –

_I think about  
Holding you and kissing you  
Wanting you and missing you  
__Building up and breaking down walls  
I dream about finding you and keeping you  
Loving you and living you  
I'm telling you I want it all...all of you…_

Gulp. Brock was calling her. Well, she wasn't answering. And she was certainly glad that hadn't rang downstairs – what would the kids think if they heard_ that _ringtone for their Dad? She shivered at the thought and tried to get back to her calm, peaceful state.

That was rather difficult, however, because not a minute after her phone rang once, it rang again. She ignored it. But it rang again, then again after that. She wasn't sure whether to smile or cry when it finally stopped. He gave up. He always gave up. Then, to cause more conflict, she heard the sharp trill that told her she had a voicemail.

Well, so much for relaxing. She slowly got out of her bath and dried off, put on the PJ's she'd brought in, and walked out of the bathroom, her hair almost dry. The best part about having short hair was that it dried super quickly, and didn't run water down her back if she didn't have it up in a towel.

"Mom?" she jumped as she walked passed her sons room. He was staring up at her with a questioning expression on his little face.

"Yeah, Jake?"

"Why are you wearing Daddy's shirt?" Reba blushed as she realized in grabbing pajamas for herself, her mind had been so many places that she had grabbed a shirt she often wore to bed before the separation.

"It's not his," she fibbed. Jake shrugged and went back into his room. Grateful that he wasn't too curious, she started towards her room before anyone else could see. Unfortunately, Cheyenne came out of her room with Van at that moment and her reaction was like Jakes.

"Mom?" she gaped, staring at the shirt. "Why are you wearing Dads shirt?"

So Reba tried to same excuse. "It's not his."

"Then whose is it?" Van asked. Cheyenne's eyes lit up. "Mom, is there a guy in there?" she whispered, pointing to the door and grinning excitedly.

"No, Cheyenne!"Reba snapped and turned to go in her room.

After closing the door and locking it, she threw her clothes on the bed, only to hear her cell phone hit the floor on the other side. She rolled her eyes; she'd dropped it so often that it couldn't have done much more damage to it. She didn't even want to pick it up now; she needed to get Jake and Kyra to bed.

Jake was asleep quickest. Kyra pretended to be, but Reba could see her peeking through her strawberry lashes and was sure as soon as the door was shut, she would whip out her flashlight and begin reading under the covers. She just smiled as she left; Kyra was just like her.

When she entered her room, she realized she really wasn't tired anymore. That was odd; as of late her days had been so chaotic that at the end of them she'd crashed as soon as her head hit the pillow, but today had just raised a bunch of questions and feelings that kept her awake –ones that couldn't be silenced by her medication.

Why wasn't BJ at the class? Were things okay between her and Brock? Why was the wedding being put off so often? Why, despite these stupid pills, couldn't she get over him enough to change that stupid ringtone?

Ringtone…Reba suddenly remembered that he'd left a voicemail. Quickly she reached to the floor and retrieved her phone. She dialed her voicemail, and listened:

"_You have four unheard messages. First unheard message:"_

"Reba, please_, please_ pick up! I don't understand..why didn't you tell me? You know, just call me back as soon as possible, please?"

She sighed and deleted the message.

"Reba, why aren't you picking up? Please don't hate me yet."

Delete.

"Okay, Reba, this isn't funny!! You have no idea how confused I am right now!"

DELETE.

There was a pause before the last message, then a deep breath. "Look…I don't blame you if you hate me, because you have every right. So if you don't ever speak to me again…just know how sorry I am. I always will be, and I love you."

SAVE. She wasn't strong enough to delete it yet. One day when she wasn't crying or totally thrilled that he'd finally told her that, maybe she would delete it. She hadn't heard that in almost a year. If only she could tell him the same thing – if only she had fought for him when she could have. Love really was a losing game – no one was winning anything here: Not Brock, who had to stay with BJ; not BJ, stuck with a man who still loved Reba; and not Reba, who would always blame herself.

But Reba couldn't let him think that she was pregnant. But how would she keep her head? Her fingers were shaking as she dialed the number.

Brock answered on the first ring. "Reba?"

"Yes, it's me, Brock."

Pause. "Have you been crying?"

"No," she lied, knowing he wouldn't believe her, but knowing he would just go along with it anyway.

"Oh." Pause. "Reba, why didn't you tell me?"

She shook her head, smiling slightly. "Brock, I'm not pregnant. Van made me wear that because he needed me to look pregnant for the childbirth class. So…its all a misunderstanding and you shouldn't feel guilty." She waited for him to stutter out an embarrassing renouncement of his last message as the seconds dragged on, but it didn't come.

"Oh," he said finally. His tone surprised her; it wasn't embarrassed or relieved, it was disappointed, almost.

"You don't sound as relieved as I thought you would," Reba tried to chuckle.

"Why would I be relieved?" he asked, confused. "You don't think I'd be happy to have another child with you?"

"Brock, you shouldn't be talking like that," she said, and it would have been scolding if her voice wasn't breaking. "Not anymore."

"Reba, there is no 'anymore'." Another silence.

"What are you talking about?"

"BJ…left. She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"What?" Reba resisted the urge to yell. She just couldn't believe it!! How could BJ just leave? She certainly didn't leave for good, right? And if that was true, why couldn't she have left before the divorce was final? Against her will tears sprung to her eyes. All that hurt…for nothing. She told herself it wasn't about her, though. She took a deep breath and prepared herself to comfort him. "Brock, I'm so sorry." Pause. "You wanna talk about it?" She half hoped that he'd say no, but half hoped that she could just keep talking to him.

"That's not fair, Reba, I've used you too much. I don't wanna make you listen." He sounded like he meant it, and Reba wasn't sure whether to be touched or victorious.

"Brock, you can't make me. I want to. So if you wanna talk…I'm here. Or, if it'd help, I'd come over and we could talk." She wasn't sure what made her say it, but she would have said the first thing that came to mind right now – anything, just for him to see that she still saw him as her best friend in the whole world, and she'd forgiven him. And if he needed her as much as she needed him…

"Reba…that'd be great. But as long as you don't think you have to-"

"I'll be there in a minute." She hung up.

**Song: All of You by Reba. YouTube it!!**


	3. Only a true love is this forgiving

**So if you're wondering why it's been so long – three words: Grapes of Wrath. Enjoy!! **

Reba was nervous as she approached Brocks condo. It looked different even from the outside – colder. She didn't want to think it was because BJ was gone, but what else had changed since she'd been there?

She knocked three knocks on the door and waited. It only took a moment or two and the door slowly opened, and there was Brock. He was wearing a gray faded T-Shirt that once said "Salt Lake City" from a short vacation the family had taken years ago. His face was pale, except for around the eyes where you could see he had been crying. Reba had seen him like this before very rarely, and it only killed her more to see that he was suffering for BJ like he had never suffered for her. The pain was horrible, but she had developed a habit of forgetting herself when Brock needed her. Because he needing her was something she had missed for so long, so she opened her arms and let him cry on her shoulder, and held him tight as she dared.

Once Brock had a better grip and remembered the neighbors may be watching, the two entered his condo and he immediately collapsed on the couch and buried his head in his hands, no longer crying, but still in pain. Reba stood awkwardly for a moment and asked, "Brock, can I get you anything?"

"No, thanks."

"When did you last eat?" No answer, and she knew what that silence meant; he couldn't remember. "You need to eat, Brock. You'll feel a little better. So, grill cheese?"

Brock couldn't resist and in a few minutes he was eating like a pig. She waited patiently until he was full then took the dishes to the kitchen. She'd never been this far into their house before, but she could almost feel the absence of everything BJ had given to the house; Beanie Babies, girlish candles and fragrances, wall fairies…everything that had made up for the absence of her, Reba, in Brocks life. And now it was gone, and even she could feel the joy that had slipped through the cracks of the house. But it just kept getting emptier and emptier, and she just didn't know what to do. She wished that she could have stopped this long before it happened – that she had fought for Brock so BJ never could have taken her place...

Reba made her way back to the living room where Brock was still grief-stricken, but not hungry anymore. At least she'd managed to fill the most important part of a man: His stomach. Silently she sat down next to him, watching him. She wasn't sure what there was to say.

"Brock, what happened?" she said finally. It took a moment for him to respond.

"She…started to doubt me. I can't blame her for that… she said, 'You left a wife and three kids…how do I know you won't leave us?'"

Reba's eyes bulged. "She said that?" Somehow, she couldn't picture blonde, cheesy-smiling, Beanie-Baby loving, floral-print-wearing BJ to have the guts or nerve to let that out. Reba filled her cheeks with air and slowly let it out, then said as kindly as possible, "Do you want me to talk to her?"

"That's not your job, Reba; I wouldn't make you do that."

"But if you want her back-"

"I don't." His words were quiet, but they seemed to echo around the room like a pipe oregon. Reba couldn't believe her ears. "What?" she asked, gaping. "After all this…" she ran out of breath, not able to believe it. She wanted Brock to explain himself, and at the same time was angry enough to slap him in the face. But she didn't; he was in enough pain right now.

"Brock, you don't mean that. You two had a fight and now you're making decisions you shouldn't be making in this state – "

"No, that's what I did with you." Reba wished he'd stop that – saying all these things she'd been dying to hear, all too late. Taking a deep breath, she said exasperatedly, "When did this start?"

Brock sighed and shrugged. "It really didn't start out well…" Reba let out a 'psh!' as low as she could. "…after we found out she was pregnant, everything was more of an obligation. She must have sensed it…she's not as stupid as she looks." Now Reba didn't try to let her 'psh!' out low. For as long as she'd known Barbra Jean, she'd never gotten a vibe of sense from her. Brock sighed again from Reba's scorn and didn't speak for another minute. Finally he went on, "But she was right; I would have never left my family if I didn't have to. When we'd fight she always brought you into the picture, and the kids. I hated it, she hated it. It was just…bad, Reba."

Reba was quiet now. She almost wished they were having this discussion over the phone, because it was easier to get through these awkward silences then (AN – Don't ask me why, it's just like that). She chewed on her nail, wishing she knew just what to say; it was so much easier to comfort him when they were married. She could make him smile whenever she wanted to, but now it just wasn't like that. She could fill his stomach, listen to his story, but not make him happy. Brock had lost two women in the past year and now he just didn't know what he wanted. Worried, she glanced over at him, only to find that he was asleep. She couldn't help but roll her eyes and think 'Men'.

All the same, she gently made him lay on the couch with a pillow beneath his head and a soft blanket to cover him. Then she left, after writing a note that said:

_Brock – Call me if you need anything. Love always, Reba. _

As soon as she was in the car she turned on the radio, hoping to get her mind going more positively. It worked; they weren't playing any depressing songs. She felt her mood getting slightly better as she pulled in the driveway of her home, but it was sucked away when she realized she'd wasted all that time trying to feel better when she could have been thinking of a way to tell her kids that BJ was gone.

Luckily Reba found herself in a sleeping house, but she was way too lost in thought to find room for relaxation. So she poured herself a glass of milk and tried to put her scattered thoughts in place. None of the kids seemed to like BJ very much anyway, but how would she answer little Jake when he asked "So why don't you and Daddy get back together?" It just wasn't that simple. Could she just automatically trust Brock like that again? If not BJ there could be someone else, and she just didn't think it was her; he wasn't out of his mid-life crisis yet. Maybe they could just…

She shook her head fiercely. She could think about that later…now she needed to think about the best way to break it to the kids. But she didn't get much farther, and ten minutes later, the last thing she expected happened – there was a knock at the door.

Who would be coming here at this hour? She thought, trying to look through the glass. Reba couldn't see through the glass on the door, but she guessed it was Brock, waking up and needing to talk some more. How surprised she was to look up and see a 6-foot, 6 month pregnant blonde biting her lip at her.

In that moment Reba felt her heart harden. She'd accepted BJ breaking her heart, but Brocks? There was a difference - a big, big difference. Not only was she jealous of this woman, but she was angry: She'd broken her heart, her family, Brocks heart and his new family. She was like…Godzilla.

"Barbra Jean," she said stiffly.

"Reba." Pause. "I think we should talk."

**Sorry for such a short chapter after such a long time!! School is really starting to interfere with my free time. We need to rethink that whole system, know what I'm saying? Ha ha so until next time!!! **


End file.
